


Ping Pongs

by Kugawing



Category: Splatoon
Genre: 3 Swears Way Too Much, Complete, Crack, Female Agent 3 (Splatoon), Female Agent 4 (Splatoon), Female Agent 8 (Splatoon), Fluff, Fluff without Plot, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Octo Expansion DLC Spoilers, Post-Octo Expansion DLC, Swearing, Well. There's a bit of plot. As a treat., the romance is not the Focus its just. implied, the spoilers are kind of nonexistent but. still there.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kugawing/pseuds/Kugawing
Summary: It is Wonderful Wednesday, a time where 4, as always, has nonsensical plans for the three Heroines of Inkopolis. 3 could care less, 8 is nervous as always, and 4 is glad to finally test out her new ping pong table.A crack fic experimenting with ping pong and general shenanigans.
Relationships: Agent 4 & Agent 8 (Splatoon)
Kudos: 7





	Ping Pongs

Agent 3 has never seen such bullshit in her whole life. She's seen a lot of bullshit, make no mistake. Flying DJ stations in the middle of what she could only assume to be space? Been there, done that. Metallic fish that can somehow swim through the ground? Boring after the fifth fight. A giant statue raising out of the ocean to wipe out all of squid-kind? Eh. Average Tuesday. Today was Wednesday, or as 3 would like to call it, 'The Day of the Week in Which 4 is at Her Highest Annoyance Levels'. She'd been finishing one of her patrols and for a brief moment of relaxation, had wanted to check the time. Her phone had been metaphorically blown up by 4, the most recent message being a minute - no, exactly that moment.

A sigh sounds from her, and Agent 3 slumps against a nearby wall. She doesn't want to read through the numerous text messages. Over 99 of them, if her phone's message counter was even slightly accurate. A tug on her cape, adjusting the cloth from where it rested around her neck. For a moment, she wracks her brain to try to understand what could have caused for this many text messages to come her way. "Bullshark shit," she hisses, eyes widening in realization.

Tonight was the sleepover. 4 had gone on and on about the sleepover, her raving starting the last Wednesday. 'It'll be fun,' 4 had cheered as she spun some expensive bowl like item on a finger as if it was nothing more than a ball to be toyed with, 'and it'll even be in my place so we don't have to clean up the town again!' Oblivious 4 would be to the fear in 8's eyes, and she struggled to not let the Octoling take the bowl due to her fear of it smashing onto the ground. It did, eventually, but by then the Squidbeak Splatoon had rolled out of there.

3 had resisted. She always did. Agent 3 had a reputation to uphold. It seemed as if her fellow agents did not share her desire of keeping true identities on the down low, of keeping the peace, of doing the damn job that had been thrust on them by creepy old men in the sewage systems. She supposed that this level of craziness was a little less for 4, but more crazy than she'd like nonetheless. She pushes herself off the wall, and begins striding off. Her patrol was over. Hopefully she could just sit down and ignore all the craziness.

Such a thought brought Agent 3 back to the bullshit before her. 4 was wheeling out a ping pong table from Zapfish-knows-where, a grin spread wide on her face. Agent 8 was helping her, moving stuff out of the way. Agent 4's apartment was messy. Not as messy as 3's by any means, and apparently that was enough merit for Marie to say that Agent 4 had better hygiene. Laughable, 3 knew, for she clearly remembers seeing nothing but candy in 4's pantry when she'd first come over. "Why are you getting out a pool table. Actually, let me rephrase that: why the fuck do you even have a pool table? Where the hell have you been keeping it?!"

4 seemed to find the older inkling's exasperation to be funny. She finishes moving the ping pong table into the living room. The couch had been slung against a wall to make room. Sometimes Agent 3 wishes that they had bones, just so 4 couldn't go slinging couches and furniture around in the ventures of bringing in a pool table. A hard breath in and out signals the completion of the pool table's entry. "This is a brand new ping pong table I bought with all the money I earned from Turf War last weekend! We need something to do on Wonderful Wednesdays and I figured this was the perfect thing!"

"Yea, 3, c'mon," Agent 8 says from where she began to rummage around in a bag attached to the table. Out she pulls a small, green colored ball. "This is basically training, but for something actually worthwhile!" The Octoling's tentacles curl, eyes fixated on the ball for moment too long. She sets it down on the table, a shiver passing through after. Her joking words would not heal the wounds of so many hundreds of tests failed from the mishandling of rolling balls.

Agent 3's burning eyes narrow. "You think all the training for keeping Inkopolis safe isn't worthwhile?" She huffs, crossing her arms. "Whatever. I'm not playing." Agent 3 likely would have sat down, but the chair she normally sat on was currently precariously balancing on the open windowsill. 

Agent 4 strides up to the taller Inkling, a jabbing motion of a finer following suit. "Oh, I see how it is. You're scared to lose to an Octoling! I get that she's a pretty Octoling, I bet 8 could beat you and that's why you're scared!" A smirk flickers on the younger Inkling's face, both hands resting on her hips.

"4, no, lets not do that," 8 whispers under her breath, gaze lowering as if the dirty tile flooring of Agent 4's apartment had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.

Agent 3's frown grows, hands moving to tug on both of her sleeves. Agent 3 isn't sure if its simply because the sleeves were edging towards her thumbs, or if she wished to demonstrate a power move towards the Octoling that dared to oppose her. "Is that so?" Slowly she moves her hands, stretching them before herself. No bones to crack, but the motion felt nice and relaxing nonetheless.

"Yup!" 4 nods her head, stepping back a pace as 3 moves swiftly over to the table.

"No," 8 shakes her head, also taking a step away from the table to compensate for 4's own movement. 4 turns her head to give the Octoling a thumbs up while 3 begins rummaging for the paddle. Agent 8 glares, even if the expression is layered with worry. The expression is gone as 3 rises up with two paddles. One is tossed to 8, and the other is moved between both of 3's hands. A nervous gulp from the youngest of the Squidbeak Splatoon as her hand tentatively moves for the ball once again.

"Show 3 who's boss!" Agent 4 cries, shimmying around her apartment to sit down on the couch that was still resting with the legs on the wall. Agent 8 serves the ball, with a gentle tap. 3 rears back, and slams the ball as hard as she physically can. The ball whizzes towards the open window, and down the chair falls from the minuscule change of air around it. The sound of a car's alarm going off is heard, and the crush of glass.

Agent 3 slowly blinks, gaze falling back to the paddle. "Well. That was fun while it lasted," she said bluntly, shrugging her shoulders. "Good game."

Agent 4's limbs spazzed from her seat. "Oh come on 3! That didn't even last half a second! Didn't even get a chance for popcorn!" She insisted, kicking from where she remained seated. "Now you've gotta buy me a brand new ball." The Inkling uptakes a pouting position, arms crossing over her chest in a protective cocoon. 

"You're seriously more worried about the ball," 3 deadpans, but then shakes her head. 4's priorities were something that was far beyond both her pay and her sanity. "Look. I'm sure you've got something else planned tonight other than ping pong. Is it taping more salad on the ceiling?" A genuine inquiry. Briefly she looks upward, seeing where a couple bowls are still glued there from two weeks ago. 4 had claimed it deterred bugs. 3 would say that was a load of bullshit.

A soft hum comes from the younger Inkling. "Uh... extreme ping pong?" She offers with an awkward smile and an equally as awkward raise of her hands and shoulders. "I was gonna order a pizza. I'll go order the pizza. Wait. 8 did we leave our stuff at Deca Tower again?"

Agent 8 jumps, her eyes flickering to awareness. "No, no, I put it in our room." With that, Agent 4 rose to her feet and strode out of the room. An awkward silence filled the air between Inkling and Octoling, with Agent 3 shuffling to pull out her phone and start reading through all of 4's messages. The first few already gave her a headache, and so she tucked her phone away again. "I didn't know you were... good at ping pong," Agent 8 comments, raising 3 from falling into a state of brooding.

A shrug is 3's initial response to the Octoling's words. "Gotta be good at a lot of things to be the best," she answers after a few seconds pass by. She can hear 4's shrill voice from the bedroom, ranting and raving to, presumably, the closest pizza company about why they wouldn't deliver. Something about a ball going through their one delivery car? 

"Yea," Agent 8 mumbles in return, leaning against the ping pong table. Then, she jerks up right. "Wait I never told 4 what kind of pizza I want, she's going to get the one with jelly on it again." Terror pools into the Octoling's eyes, and she sprints down the small hallway into their room.

"Hey 3!" 4's voice rings out from the bedroom, and she opens the door to peer at the taller Inkling. "They say that their car's busted! Can you go run and get the pizza for us? I'll pay you back!"

For a brief moment, 3 wishes to decline. If anything, this gave her an excuse to get out of Wonderful Wednesday and get some actual training in during the remaining hours of daytime. She knew for a fact that 4 wouldn't be paying her back. "Alright." She turns to the door as Agent 4 and 8 come walking out of their bedroom. Agent 3 doesn't want to know where the sparkler or the lava lamp came from, and she doesn't want to find out or be caught in whatever explosive shenanigans that it might cause. She races off, irritated that she knows she will return. Training will wait for tomorrow, as usual.

When Agent 3 arrives at Inkopolis Square's Finest Pizza Establishment, she is not surprised when she finds that 4 had ordered 12 entire boxes of jelly covered pizza.


End file.
